


Blue Paste

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forced Bonding, M/M, Mpreg, ignores the events of HBP and DH completely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Beltane celebrations have had a long tradition in Hogwarts and this year Harry is chosen to take part in the rites. When unfortunate events come together it is not only Harry's life alone that will be turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Paste

Drums sounded over the plain and into the tent Harry was sitting in. He twisted his hands nervously and glanced at the entrance, not sure whether to be excited about or frightened of the things to come.

"Don't be nervous, everything will be all right," Hermione told him whilst she mixed blue powder and water into a weirdly looking paste. "This ritual has been performed for hundreds of years." Harry nodded and turned towards her, taking off his shirt.

"It's just ... This is my first Beltane and I get chosen as the May Queen," he said and tried to ignore any comparison between him and a – decidedly female – queen. "I mean, I didn't even know a bloke could _be_, well, a Queen." Hermione picked up the blue mixture and started drawing symbols on Harry's chest and stomach with her fingers. Her face showed a concentration that Hermione usually only applied to her homework and exams.

"It's an honour to be chosen." Hermione told him seriously, an with a slight note of envy in her voice. She'd looked forward to celebrating Beltane for a long time and now that they were seventh years her wish had finally come true. This was why Harry had chosen her as his confidant for tonight.

When Hermione had first started talking about Beltane Harry hadn't really understood what the fuss was about. Why should someone celebrate the end of April and the beginning of May? What was so special about a night that it caused so much excitement? He had asked Hermione exactly that and had received a textbook-answer: "_Beltane marks a time of ritual purification and transition. The celebration and the re-enactment of the joining of the King of the Forest and the May Queen are important ritual acts to protect people from any harm by otherworldly spirits. These spirits would slip over into our world if not for the ritual – for the walls between the worlds are exceptionally thin during the night from April 30th to May 1st._"

It had been a lot to grasp, but the importance of the whole Beltane rite had been so apparent that Harry hadn't protested when the master of Ceremonies – namely Flitwick – had told Harry about being the May Queen.

Flitwick had pulled him aside a couple of days before this, right after Charms class, and had told Harry about this honour and his duties. Duties were something Harry could understand very well, which was the sole reason for him being here. Still, Harry wasn't really sure how he felt about giving up his virginity. Beltane wasn't really what he ha waited for. Not that he had told Flitwick that.

 

When Hermione was finished she stepped back to look at her masterpiece with a certain amount of pride and satisfaction.

"Good?" Harry looked at himself in the mirror.

"Good," Hermione agreed and handed him a steaming cup. "Drink this."

Harry could taste faint traces of pomegranate and chilli, cinnamon and star-anise seed as the drink rolled over his tongue. It was supposed to be another ritual to drink this, but knowing that Hermione would be here with him Harry hadn't really bothered to read up on the process. Handing the cup back to Hermione he nodded and put on the mask that was to cover his face.

"Mr Potter, are you ready?" Professor Flitwick asked from outside and Harry said something in return, too mesmerized by his reflection in the small mirror to pay attention to his own words. Somehow he registered that the drink-induced trance must have begun and he was glad for it, because all his nervousness was gone now.

The sound of the drums increased as they led him out of the tent and up onto the hill where the fires were built up. The flames threw wide, dancing shadows and bathed the dancers in light.

He felt Hermione's hand on his back nudging him forwards into the middle of the circle. The King was not yet there, but Harry could feel him coming closer. It was as if some foreign, but yet comfortably familiar power had taken hold of him. He closed his eyes and let the drums become his heartbeat, let the movements of the dancers and the flickers of the fires flood through him.

Then he was there. Harry's eyes shot open and his eyes found the King, roamed over his body. He was crowned, painted in red and his stare, even through the mask that concealed his features, was so intense that Harry found himself trembling. The King took a step towards Harry and Harry walked backwards. He knew his role, he knew what to do. Harry started to run. The King gave chase, pursuing Harry to the left and the right, letting Harry think he had got away when suddenly strong arms caught Harry around his middle and drew him to the King. Their breathing quickened and Harry could feel the King's heartbeat against his back. The King ran his tongue along Harry's neck, first right, then left. He keened when the King bit down on his shoulder. He was marked now, he was the King's.

They sunk onto the ground, intertwined, the King's hands all over Harry's body. He was feeling hot and was glad he was only wearing a loincloth. His cock was hard. It was not to be touched, a part of him remembered, but there were more pressing matters.

The chanting of the dancers had begun and the fires roared higher. There was grass under Harry's back and for a moment he could see the stars and the bright moon before the King moved into his field of vision. Harry spread his legs wide in a way he usually would have called wanton. The King drew back and took himself in hand, guiding himself, and pushed into Harry.

Harry's head snapped back and he gasped at the burn that spread through his body. The King pushed again and again until pleasure exceeded pain. Harry's cries started to mix with the chanting and the King's grunts.

In the end Harry couldn't say how long it had been going on. When both of them had climaxed the King ran his fingers through the semen on Harry's abdomen, tracing the blue markings there. They got up slowly, holding hands to demonstrate their union, and were led to their thrones.

 

*******

 

Harry woke up sore and happy in his tent. It took him a couple of minutes to gather his wits, then he tried to remember the last night, but Beltane was but a wonderful and strange dream. Looking down at himself he saw that he was still covered in marks and went to look for something to wash himself with.

Arcane magic, ancient spells had led them yesterday night. It had felt extraordinary – and really not bad for a first time. Because really, who else could say they had been bedded by a King?

Harry wondered who the man had been. He had been taller than Harry, but many people were, and the mask had concealed so much of him that Harry couldn't even say for sure if the King had been older than him. Maybe it had been another seventh year. Or someone from the Hogsmeade people, who always joined the Beltane celebrations at Hogwarts. Or it could have been a teacher. Harry shook his head. Whoever it had been he wasn't to know. At least Hermione had said that.

Harry smiled to himself and took the sponge that was lying next to the wash-basin he had found. He'd take a proper shower when he was back in the castle.

After cleaning up Harry put on his clothes, having felt a tad underdressed in only his loincloth, and ate a bit of fruit that had been put there for him. A call from outside was the sign for him to leave this strange world of Beltane.

 

*******

 

It took two days for Harry to start feeling the urges. He couldn't find a better word to describe them, never having been a wordy bloke. It happened first when he was on his way back to Gryffindor Tower after dinner. At first he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. But then he realised that rather than walking than up to the tower he had walked down and found himself in Slytherin territory sooner than he would have liked. He hurried back to Gryffindor as soon as he could.

 

The next time it happened Harry was standing in front of the Charms classroom, moaning with Ron and Seamus about their newest assignment. Someone walked past him, right behind Harry's back, and he closed his eyes in something just barely short of ecstasy. He very nearly started walking after them, but controlled himself. When he opened his eyes whoever it was had were gone and his friends were looking at him strangely. He didn't tell them what had happened – apart from Hermione no one really knew, after all, who had been Beltane's Queen this year and Harry intended to keep it that way. Because while he had been able to accept his position as the Queen he didn't think he could accept everybody knowing what he had done...

 

The third time it happened Harry was on his way to Potions. First it was just a tingle, then he started walking faster until he broke into a run. Hermione's and Ron's confused shouts didn't matter anymore. He brushed past Malfoy, stumbled over Crabbe's overly large feet and burst into the Potions classroom.

"Potter!" Snape barked, his rough voice barely covering up his surprise. "What is the meaning of this?"

Harry licked his lips and slowly walked towards Snape. Somewhere in his mind he tried to find the right words to answer Snape's question, but another part was too busy noticing the pleasantly strange burning sensation on his chest.

"Potter, your pupils are completely dilated; have you taken something?!"

Harry's harsh breathing filled the room. Suddenly he was feeling so hot again! He loosened his tie and tugged at his shirt until he ripped off the first button.

Snape, Harry saw, stared at him in a manner which Harry hoped could be described as mesmerized, then let his eyes wander down to Harry's neck where the King's mark was still showing. Snape's eyes widened and Harry leaned forwards to try and catch a kiss.

"No!" Snape held him away at arms-length. "No, this is unacceptable. I didn't agree to this!"

"Please -" Harry gasped and the door opened. Snape stared at the intruders – students! – for a couple of seconds, before bellowing: "Class dismissed! Study period for all of you!" Then he practically ran out of the classroom, dragging Harry, who happily followed along, with him.

 

"Headmaster!" Snape yelled. He looked so livid that Harry didn't doubt he could have kicked the door in, but Harry didn't mind it at all. The man was, after all, holding his hand. Now if only said hand could wander a little further down...

"Severus, my dear boy -" Dumbledore began, but was interrupted.

"How could you let this happen?!" Snape gestured wildly back and forth between Harry and himself.

"Let what happen?" Dumbledore blinked confusedly – or was that really a twinkle in his eyes?

"Him! Me! Beltane! How could you let us both enter the rite? Together!"

"Why, I didn't appoint you that honour, Severus. You know as well as I do that the Sorting Hat announces the names to the Master of Ceremonies each year, chosen from everyone in 7th year and above. Besides, both of you agreed to go through with the rite."

Snape looked for a moment as if he wanted to tell Dumbledore that no one in their right mind would pair him and a Potter together, but swallowed that comment to make an even more important point: "Look at him, Headmaster!" He pushed Harry towards the desk. "What or rather who does he remind you of? Pay special attention to his face."

Dumbledore titled his head and then his eyes widened, too.

"Why, he looks like Mariamne Cunningham back when you were a student! ... You don't believe...?"

Snape rubbed his hands over his face. Harry would have preferred him to rub them over other places.

"Yes, Albus. Potter was a virgin. I took his virginity that night and now, thanks to the rite, _we're bonded_!" He actually shouted the last part.

"Oh."

"'Oh'?! You say 'oh'?! I am a teacher for Merlin's sake! I cannot be bonded to a student! I refuse!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I believe there is nothing you can do about it. You cannot break a bond."

"The hell I can't. I will research this matter and find a way out of this."

Harry rubbed his legs together. Somehow he had to get some friction...

"You said when it happened to Miss Cunningham that you would take precautions!" Snape now accused.

"Well, we did. Only..." Dumbledore looked at Harry apologetically. "We didn't think boys would be in any danger in that matter."

Snape snorted. "Potter certainly wasn't the only late bloomer. You had better take precautions in future, or ..." Snape sighed and shook his head in defeat. "What am I going to do now? Just look at him. The state he's in..."

"You know what to do. Afterwards.... When he's himself again ... You will need to talk." Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry thought the Headmaster's eyes were twinkling like the fairy lights on Christmas.

 

Harry trailed after Snape like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. They were going down to the cooler dungeons and the air felt heavenly on Harry's heated skin. Dumbledore had given them the day off and ... Harry was feeling happy. It was an odd sort of happy, like when you knew that you should feel different, but couldn't help yourself. Odd.

Harry focussed again when he heard a door open. Behind that door lay a living room, comfortably furnished with loads of books in the shelves, but Harry didn't have enough time to admire the room, for he was pushed further until they reached the bedroom. It was nice, too, and cool and, what was even more important, there was a large bed in the middle.

"Undress," Snape ordered gruffly and Harry complied happily. "I..." Snape shook his head at himself. "Lie down on the bed."

Harry did as he was told, sighing blissfully as his body touched the soft duvet, and waited. He knew that this would be different from Beltane, but he couldn't bring himself to mind.

Cold hands touched his backside and he arched into the touch. He tried to turn around and look at his King's face, but Snape held him in position while one of his hands set to preparing him.

This hadn't been necessary on Beltane, Harry remembered. It felt weird and yet good and Harry started to frown. The fingers withdrew and back came something bigger, thicker – something he knew. Snape pushed into him with a tortured groan. This time the pain wasn't as bad as it had been during Beltane. Snape pushed into him, found his prostate, making Harry keen. This was it. This was what he had come for. It was right! He started pushing back against the magnificent feeling while rubbing himself against the duvet.

Harry felt the feeling building up and the prickling sensation on his chest intensified, spread until it covered his whole body.

"Yes!" Harry gasped and came. Snape followed only moments after.

He pulled out immediately and while Harry was recuperating from his orgasm he felt semen dribbling out of his arse. Then, as the cold finally reached his skin and reality came crashing back, Harry let out a haunted whine and scrambled up on the bed, away from Snape.

"What?!" he cried, "What was that?!" His chest heaved with heavy breaths and lights were dancing in front of his eyes. This couldn't ... He hadn't ... "Why?!" Snape, he saw, sat on a chair, head in his hands. If nothing else, this did frighten Harry. He didn't know what to think. Had he been raped? He clearly remembered wanting this, but how could he? Having sex with the King during Beltane had been one thing – Harry stared wide-eyed at Snape. The King. Snape had been his King and they had had sex on Beltane and now again.

Snape took a deep breath and started to talk without looking at him: "It appears, Potter, that the fates have decided to sport with us once more. With you being a virgin when entering the rite you initiated an ancient ritual. -"

"I didn't – I didn't know!" Harry shouted in panic.

"I suspected as much, Potter. I didn't really believe you would actually want to be bonded to me."

It took a bit until the words actually sunk in, then Harry started to hyperventilate.

"Cease the melodrama, boy. I will not have it. This is bad enough without your drama queen act," Snape snarled and stood up only to walk around agitatedly. But Harry couldn't stop. This was too much, too big. It was wrong!

He heard Snape cast Accio and then a flask was pressed to Harry's lips. Calming Draught, he thought, as the last drop went down his throat. He sunk back into the pillows.

"What does this mean for us?"

Snape cringed at the word. "You are bound to me and I to you. Think of it as something like marriage, only stricter." He sneered. "We've yet to find out whether or not there will be repercussion for infidelity."

"What does this mean to me?"

"You will find yourself to require my ... attention. Of a sexual nature. Every so often, I suppose, or you'll react like you did today."

"Come to you like a possessed zombie and hang onto you like a love-sick idiot?" Harry swallowed heavily. He was faced with Hobson's choice then.

"Come here on every second evening. It should suffice to fulfil your urges. You will _not_, however, be gaining any favours and nothing will change between you and me," Snape snarled and walked out.

 

******

 

Bonded. The word resounded through Harry's head. How could you just end up bonded? Just like that, no warning, nothing. Bonded because he had been a virgin on Beltane. Harry gave a hollow laugh. Bonded to Snape, of all people, to whom this whole affair was nothing more than a duty. Coming here to get fucked every second night for God knew how long. Would he have to do this until the day he died?

He had told Hermione, of course, and she had been as consoling and nice as possible. There had been so much pity in her eyes that Harry had actually felt sick. Bonded to Snape.

And Harry had actually believed everyone when they had said being a part of the Beltane rite would be an honour. Like hell it was! It was gruesome and life-changing.

He felt like he was awakening from a hazy and confusing dream, only to realise that reality was way scarier than the dream itself.

'Why me?' was a question he didn't even bother to ask anymore. It was _always_ him.

There had to be a way around this mess! He couldn't be destined to be bonded to a man who hated him! There had to be something greater waiting for him! Even Snape hadn't been willing to give up like that. He'd told Dumbledore he would research the matter – and that was exactly was Harry was going to do, too. He would find out everything about the rite and soon things would be all right again!

 

******

 

Hermione helped, of course, but research was a tedious and slow affair and Harry had no choice but go down to Snape's quarters on the second day. They fucked over the sofa this time, trousers down, clothes on, and Snape dismissed him as soon as it was over. To Harry, who had always thought sex should be something special, it felt weird, even wrong to just leave like that.

 

Then, one and a half days after that and during another lunch-break spent in the library, Harry finally found a book about bonds that looked like it would help.

"_Bonds Most Precious_," He read and opened the dusty old tome. There was no index – annoyingly typical for every old book that he had ever needed – and he had to leaf through the pages. Why hadn't people thought of using indices back then? It would have been so much easier and would make research go a lot quicker if they had.

Harry searched the book until he found a chapter titled _On the Breaking of Bonds_, which he started to read with a relieved smile on his face. He had found something after all!

_Bonds must not be broken. Should someone attempt to break a bond they and their bonded will be haunted by bad luck and sorrow for all their life. -_

So far Harry saw no difference to what his life had been like before.

_Two methods to break a bond exist. The first and foremost is the death of a bond-mate, the latter an arcane ritual too complex to grasp for a simple mind._

Harry decided to ask Hermione for help then. He continued to read to find out more about the ritual, hoping there wasn't too much blood involved. Then his face fell.

_Beltane-bonds, also called Virgin-bonds, cannot be broken unless one of the bond-mates dies. Designed to protect the Virgin-Queen and bond her to her destined King forever, Beltane-bonds are the strongest bonds known in the Magical World._

The book fell from Harry's hands. Forever? He couldn't be bonded to Snape forever! This was not possible! There had to be a way to break this. Harry picked up the book again and started searching feverishly, scanning line after line in hope of finding something that could erase the finality of _Forever_ from his mind. He was young, his _forever_ was long and if there was no other way out – because no matter how often Harry wished for it, he just couldn't kill Snape – he'd be damned to something as final as this!

His eyes raced over the words, putting a stop to possibility after possibility, only to be then caught by a single word. _Offspring_. Harry gulped, not wanting to read what came next, but he felt compelled to, knowing that eventually -

_On the matter of offspring:  
In case the Beltane celebration falls on a day of the Full Moon, shining brightly and blessing the coupling, accompanied by Venus standing high and clear on the sky, the seed of the King will impregnate the Queen, as it has been done since Morgaine Le Fay was Queen and was quickened by the High King Arthur. The offspring will be born during February of the following year and the protection of the bond expands to accommodate the offspring._

Harry closed the book. It was all good, he thought. No need to get worried. He had learned in Astronomy somewhere around his fifth year already that planetary constellations that were of any importance to magic rituals were highly uncommon – or accidental rituals would happen all over the place all the time. The chance of a full moon _and_ a brightly shining Venus was highly unlikely.

 

*******

 

Four hours later Harry's calm was shattered. During Transfiguration he remembered that the moon had indeed been full – he had registered it when he had lain on the grass, just moments before the King had covered him – and he asked Hermione about Venus being visible that night with enough laughter in his voice to conceal his worry. Worry changed to stomach-turning panic and he found himself pacing through the castle.

He couldn't be pregnant! No matter that men didn't get pregnant – they apparently did, or the book would have specified, and to be honest he wasn't going to be surprised by much in the magical world where everything seemed possible. The crucial fact was the he _did not want to be pregnant_. Just because he hadn't got rid of his stupid virginity beforehand, he was bonded to someone who hated him, had to let himself be fucked every two days so he wouldn't go insane (which he clearly was, now. He was pregnant, after all.), and he was still in school. He had wanted a life, dammit!

Not knowing where to go Harry let himself into Snape's quarters after having discovered that being someone's bond-mate apparently included you into their ward-system. If that didn't mean you were giving up your personal privacy then Harry didn't know what else did. First he took the liberty to browse through Snape's living room to take his mind off of things, read what was written on the spines of books, although he forgot the titles only a couple of seconds afterwards, searched for pictures – there was a portrait of Snape and his mother – and tried out the sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable. Harry would have stayed there, but he didn't feel as if he belonged here, so he moved to the bedroom.

Not that he found himself to be welcome there, either, but it was better than sitting on the couch in the living room. And after all, wasn't the bedroom exactly the thing was he was here for? It was the second day again and therefore time for another round of fucking. Harry drew his knees to his chest and rested his head on top of them.

 

******

 

This was how Snape found him two hours later.

"Potter! What are you doing here?!" He sounded genuinely surprised, Harry noted. Probably hadn't known that bond-mates could break wards. Harry nearly felt like snorting.

"I just..." Harry started, then shook his head. He should tell Snape about the pregnancy, but he didn't know how. The words just didn't want to come out of his mouth.

"Spit it out, Potter," Snape barked and Harry opened his mouth to start with something simple, like that he had been in the library, but closed it again, because Snape surely had nothing nice to say about libraries and Harry.

"Don't bother. Go on, pull your trousers down, I want to finish this as soon as possible. I have essays to grade."

 

******

 

Harry went to bed early that night. Feeling extremely dirty he showered for half an hour before he went to bed and ate a bar of chocolate even after brushing his teeth, feeling like he deserved it.

When he undressed for bed he couldn't help but stop and stare at his stomach. Flat, normal. There was nothing out of order. Was he really pregnant? Maybe it was just a mistake and the stupid old book was wrong. Or it only was true for women, after all. There had to be a way to test this without anyone knowing, right? Girls surely had to have a way to test themselves if they didn't want a mediwitch or a healer knowing.

 

******

 

Surprisingly it wasn't difficult to find the right spell. Harry found it in the first book about sexual education he pulled out of the shelf, scribbled it down on a slip of paper and hurried to hide in an alcove in a fairly deserted corridor.

Casting wasn't been hard, either. It probably was designed to be easy so nervous witches didn't have to try the spell for ages and maybe get the wrong result. Harry got his pretty quickly.

What was hard was to accept was that it hadn't been a mistake, that he was really pregnant. Shock, denial and anger raced through Harry's body in a matter of minutes until he just felt drained. He went to Snape's quarters again, curled up on the sofa for an hour or two, missing Charms, and left again before Snape came back.

 

*******

 

Unfortunately Harry hadn't been as inconspicuous as he had thought and the next day – a Fuck Day – Snape was glaring at him when he opened the door.

"You were in here yesterday," Snape accused him with that sharp tongue of his. He was glaring at Harry as if he had been nothing more than a trespasser – which, in a sense, he had been.

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at the sofa. "Yes," he said eventually and sounded, even though he tried not to, defensive. Could or should he tell Snape? He didn't know how to begin.

Snape stared at him for a bit longer, then sighed and nodded at the bedroom. So they'd do it in there again, Harry thought, and started to move. Better to get this done and over with so he could start thinking about the whole mess with a clear head.

The undressed in silence and Harry got onto the bed, lying down on his stomach. Now, after the first passionate, desperate encounter, the whole procedure had turned into something clinical. It had become as functional as getting up and showering in the morning – only that it didn't feel as natural.

It did feel wrong, in fact. Something was missing, Harry thought as Snape started trusting into him. The zing of the tingling feeling started racing through his body and he started groaning and sweating and – "God, more!" – Harry turned his head.

He had to stretch his neck until it nearly hurt, but then he saw Snape's face. He was biting his lip, his forehead was creased. His mouth stood slightly open, letting panting breaths out.

Harry squeezed his hand between his body and the bed and started rubbing his prick. He was close – "God!" – and he only needed – he was coming. For a fraction of a moment Harry closed his eyes as he emptied himself onto the bed and opened them again as Snape was coming.

Then he saw the expression on Snape's face. Relief, sexual satisfaction, and – Snape's and Harry's eyes met – emptiness. Harry swallowed heavily and Snape pulled out of him.

 

******

 

That night Harry couldn't sleep. He felt haunted by Snape's face. He felt as miserable as Snape had looked. What did this mean? He hadn't thought Snape would take this thing with him so badly. Was it because he had to fuck Harry? Because he had to fuck a boy? Because he had to fuck a student?

Maybe it would be different if he actually liked Harry. He didn't even have to love Harry, but tolerating him would already be an improvement. Maybe they'd do more than just fuck then. Maybe they could talk or at least exchange a couple of words.

Harry's hands wandered down his body and stopped at his stomach. Soon it wouldn't be as flat anymore. There was a life growing inside him, as strange as that concept might be. A child that deserved to grow up happily, but not in the midst of the misery that was his and Snape's life right now. No, he couldn't let that happen.

 

*******

 

"What are you doing here?" Snape barked as he entered his quarters the next day. Thursday was always a relatively short day for Harry – class wise – and he'd come to Snape's rooms straight after class. What he needed to do was talk to Snape.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said and tried to swallow that lump that had situated itself in his throat, making his larynx feel like a football.

Snape scowled at him and crossed his arms. He didn't move, just loomed over Harry as if he expected him to run away any moment now. And to be honest Harry indeed felt inclined to do so, but his Gryffindor-courage and don't-fuck-with-me-determination won the battle against the rising cowardice and he kept sitting. "Well, talk. I haven't got all day."

Harry cleared his throat. "Why don't you ... sit down?" he suggested. The look Snape threw at him told him that it had been a bad idea. But Harry wouldn't let himself be deterred. He'd go through with his plan.

Hermione knew, of course, where he was and her mission was to keep Ron distracted enough so he wouldn't know what Harry was up to. Harry didn't want his friend to know about everything just yet. In fact he didn't know whether he wanted him to know at all, but he supposed in approximately nine months there would be no hiding anything anymore. The decision to actually keep the baby had been a tough one. After all there was nothing he could offer a child. At least not now. But deep down in the pit of his stomach (which was, incidentally right next to the growing foetus) Harry knew he would manage, somehow.

"I prefer to stand. I also prefer you outside of my rooms, Potter. Be so kind -"

"Stop that already," Harry snapped. "I said we needed to talk -"

"You said you needed to talk to me."

"Fine. It doesn't matter. The core of the whole thing is that there needs to be talking between you and me." Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. This would be the right moment to tell Snape. He should just get it out and maybe Snape would know what to do.

Only when he looked at Snape out of the corners of his eyes he knew that Snape wouldn't. He would not, even though he was a control-freak par excellence, know what to do or how to cope. Which would make him angry and spiteful – and that was just the thing that Harry was hoping to put a stop to.

"This thing. Between us, I mean." Harry licked his lips. "I know ... I mean. I, ... well."

"Spit it out, Potter!"

"I don't want it to go on like this."

"I see." Snape strode over to a cabinet and all but ripped it open. He blocked Harry's view inside, but from the clinking noises Snape was shifting or lifting bottles. He turned around with a tumbler of ... some brown liquid in his hand. "But, you see, Potter, this is not something you or I, for that matter, had any power to decide about. Whether or not we want it; it is happening. Both of us should be used to this kind of cruelty, no matter that at least _I_ deserved another outcome. "

"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed, silently taking in Snape's sceptical expression that didn't hold back his disinterest for Harry's opinion.. "But what we can do is make this more bearable. The way it has been going ... I don't think I can keep on doing that." The last part was barely more than a whisper.

"And what do you suggest?" His tone of voice clearly indicated that nothing Harry might suggest could be of any practical use whatsoever.

"Less functionality. I don't want to just fuck and run. I'd like to..." He wanted to say _get to know you_ but there was no way in hell Snape would let him survive after saying something like that. No, he had to be more careful with his wording. "I'd like to do something other than have sex here."

"But that is why you _are_ here, Potter."

"I'd like to come here for different things too, then." At Snape's scowl that promised a furious outburst he increased his speed. "You see, I don't mean all the time. Just like maybe come here and read. Or do homework. Maybe once in a while. I -"

"Fine," Snape said with a sigh. "But you will cease your whining."

Harry's jaw dropped. He had hoped, naturally, but he never would have expected Snape to actually agree to this! "I ... okay. Okay, great then." He didn't know what to do. Should he stay or should he go? He could just come back tomorrow and talk before they did the deed. Or he could stay and try to warm Snape a bit more to the concept.

He shifted, but stayed put. Snape raised an eyebrow, but then wandered over to an armchair and sat down.

"What are you drinking?" Harry asked in a desperate attempt to make conversation.

"Whiskey," Snape answered. "I suppose you want some."

Harry blinked. He was inclined to say yes, but then thought about the baby and that alcohol would probably not be very good for it. He shook his head.

"Good, because I wouldn't have given you any anyway."

"Why? I'm old enough!" Harry frowned.

"And I'm still your teacher." Snape countered. Harry had to force down the next comment that wanted to jump out of his throat. So Snape could fuck a student, but giving him alcohol was against his ethics. Not that Harry had ever thought the man had ethics. He couldn't complain about Snape fucking him – after all both of them had been forced into this. Somehow this made Harry's insides pinch.

Harry nodded. He needed something to talk about. He couldn't very well ask the man how his day had been. He needed a safe topic. Something that had nothing to with Potions, because that was something Harry really didn't want to talk about. It would maybe be even worse than Beltane and its results.

"You have a lot of books," he remarked eventually.

"Yes."

Harry frowned. It wouldn't hurt Snape to try to accommodate Harry a bit more. And maybe he could also try to be a bit nicer. Harry shook himself at the image of a happy sun-and-rainbow smile on Snape's face.

"Are they just about Potions, or..."

"Potter, I do not solely enjoy Potions. While I brew for a living and certainly take a delight in doing so, there are other things that are of interest to me," Snape told him dryly and crossed his legs, looking at him as if he was waiting for something. Harry wished he knew what that was.

"What's your favourite book then?" Anything to get to know the man and to keep the awful silence away.

"There are too many good books to pick only one," Snape answered, taking another sip of his whiskey.

"Favourite author then." Did he really sound that desperate, Harry wondered.

"Conan Doyle."

"As in the man who wrote the stories about Sherlock Holmes?" Harry gaped. Snape read Muggle books?

"The one and only," Snape answered and inclined his head. "I am astounded, Potter. You actually know something about books. Maybe not all hope is lost then."

Harry didn't tell him that he hadn't actually read the books – he only knew of them and who wrote them. And once there had been a Holmes movie on TV. Uncle Vernon had fallen asleep on the sofa and couldn't switch to another program and Dudley had been in his room watching whatever he watched late in the evening. And that had left Harry free to watch the movie from his seat on the stairs where he wouldn't be noticed but was still able to see the TV.

"And what's your favourite colour?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual and not as forced. It didn't work and Snape noticed.

"I wasn't aware we were playing twenty questions, Potter. Nor am I inclined to do something so childish." Snape rose from his armchair. "Which reminds me of the time; you should leave and go to your dorm now." It was not a suggestion.

Harry swallowed and got up before Snape could say anything harsher. "Good night then."

 

******

 

Harry was a man on a mission. He went back to Snape's quarters every night and tried to get to know the man. Knowing each other was the basis of a good relationship, wasn't it? He told nobody but Hermione where he went, just indicated vaguely that he needed to go somewhere quiet to get on with his studies for the N.E.W.T.s. It wasn't even _that_ far from the truth.

Now that the first contact with Snape was established he could see a bit of light at the end of the dreary, dark tunnel and could finally start hoping. Maybe everything wasn't going down the drain. On the baby front nothing changed. One of the books that he had snuck out of the library told Harry that, not counting morning sickness from which Harry didn't suffer (thank Merlin), there wouldn't be any actual signs of him being pregnant until around the end of the first trimester. It was one of the reasons why he'd decided not to tell anybody yet. He just took care to eat more or less healthy and not to put too much strain on himself.

Apart from Quidditch, that was. There was only one last game to play and it would probably be his last for at least a very long while, so Harry decided that he would play. He wouldn't be far along in his pregnancy anyway and nothing in the book said he couldn't ride a broom. He would just have to be careful and not let himself be kicked off of the broom.

The actual thought that there was a baby growing inside of him still freaked Harry out if he let his thoughts wander off into the future. It wasn't even so hard to accept the baby inside him itself, but all the things the baby brought with it... First there was the pregnancy and all its downsides, like getting bigger, people probably staring at him – Hello, yes, pregnant Boy-Who-Lived! - and then there was the matter of the birth (Harry didn't fancy thinking about that and already dreaded the talk he would, sooner or later, have to have with Madam Pomfrey) and having the child grow up...

At this Harry paused, his fists clutching at his robes. He would need a name for the baby. He couldn't decide for a name on his own!

Harry shook his head. There were still a couple of months left before he would have to worry about the important stuff. Right now he had to think of Quidditch and the next Fuck Day.

 

******

 

It was Monday evening and a No-Fuck Day. Classes had been tiring and hadn't wanted to end. There were only two more weeks left till the first N.E.W.T. exams would start and the seventh years throughout the castle were brimming with panic and nervousness. It was just as well that Harry could hide out in Snape's quarters.

It was one of Snape's less chatty days as well, which equated to him being completely silent while he poured over a book, not even acknowledging Harry's presence. At first Harry had just studied for his Theory of Charms exam, but after a while his attention had been caught by Snape.

He looked tired, Harry noted, and incredibly tense. His shoulders were drawn up and every few minutes he brought up his hand to pinch the ridge of his nose. Harry found himself wanting to ask what it was that worried him so much and whether or not it had something to do with him. He supposed it must have.

He sighed. If he had only known what coming as a virgin into the rite would do to them. Maybe he could have done something. He could have figured out a plan with Hermione. But it was too late and they'd have to deal with it.

 

Harry looked down at his stomach and tapped it lightly with his forefinger. What if Snape found a way to undo the bond? What would happen with him and the baby? Would Snape want to have nothing to do with them or would he want to get involved?

A heavy sigh shook Harry out of his thoughts and he returned to the present. Snape had his attention again immediately. What caused him to look so defeated?

Harry decided he couldn't stand the expression on Snape's usually so hard and determined face. He wanted the scowl back. He wanted to do something for Snape.

Quietly he got up and wandered over to the small kitchenette. It didn't take long until the water was boiling in the kettle, waiting to be poured over fresh tea leaves. Harry took out several tins that were filled with tea and sniffed each until he found one that somehow reminded him of Snape's scent. He probably drank that kind often.

 

******

 

Harry carefully placed a cup of tea right next to Snape on the desk and stepped back. After a couple of seconds Snape blinked in the most bewildered manner and then looked up at him. Involuntarily the expression on Snape's face made Harry smile.

"Thank you," Snape said, still looking confused. His voice was slightly rough and quiet and Harry gave him a nod in response. Snape sniffed on the tea, making Harry wonder if the man thought he had put poison into the cup, and took a careful sip after blowing on the hot tea. "My favourite," he added, looking suspiciously at Harry as if he must have been spying on him. He completely couldn't hide the pleased expression that flickered over his features, though. Harry's smile widened.

It felt good – being praised, even offhandedly – and being acknowledged at all. Harry couldn't quite describe the feeling that was blossoming inside his chest now, but he knew that it was a good one and he revelled in it.

"What are you studying for?" Snape asked brusquely, throwing Harry completely out of the loop. It took Snape's nod towards the books that were lying on the sofa until Harry understood what he was on about.

Harry sat back down and cleared his throat. "Theory of Charms. I think I grasped most parts of the subject, but there are still some theses that I can't quite wrap my head around. Can't keep them in my head."

Snape's slight snort made Harry duck his head.

"You know, I'm actually quite good in Charms," Harry told Snape defiantly and raised his chin proudly.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He took another sip and summoned Harry's books to himself. "Well, let's see how good you actually are. What are the three basic principles of Memory Charms?"

 

*******

 

Snape and Harry had studied for quite some time that evening. Only when Snape had nodded, for the first time looking satisfied in Harry's presence, and closed the book they had put a stop to the session.

Harry was on his way back to the tower, yawning widely, but feeling accomplished. Revision with Snape had been quite good – they seemed to get on just fine when Potions wasn't concerned and when Harry actually knew the subject matter.

And Snape had drunk Harry's tea without complaining. Sure, it was only tea and there was hardly something you could do wrong with that, but for Harry it still meant a lot that there had been no criticism at all.

 

*******

 

Harry stared down at his Potions book and tried to concentrate on the text they had to read. During the first hour they were supposed to re-read the chapter about flesh-restorative potions and during the second they'd brew the potion. These days everything was about revision for the looming N.E.W.T.s.

And while Harry knew how important it was for him to study and to go through all of the potions again he just couldn't keep his eyes on the book. Every so often they would dart up to Snape, then back to the page again.

Harry shook himself. _Concentrate_, he told himself and narrowed his eyes in the hope that the letters would start to make sense now. His eyes moved over the list of ingredients, the instructions on how to brew and the explanations on what exactly the potion was supposed to do, but his mind didn't register a thing.

Harry looked up at Snape again and bit his lip. The man was hunched over a book again – from the looks of it, it was the book he had been reading these past few days in his quarters. He looked like he hadn't slept much and Harry found himself worrying. This couldn't be healthy. He wished he could just go up to Snape and tell him to quit the search or at least to be reasonable and not work himself to death.

But no matter where he did this, whether in class, in the Great Hall or in the privacy of Snape's quarters, Harry was sure it would cost him points. Snape wouldn't be amused. Maybe he'd even forbid Harry to return to Snape's rooms for anything but fucking.   
All he could do was make tea for Snape and hope for the best. Harry gnawed on the end of his quill and tried to will himself to get to work again. Of course he wasn't successful. Instead his thoughts raced from worry to ... something that made his insides tingle. He didn't want to think of what that feeling might mean, chose to ignore it and just kept thinking about the evening. Today was another Fuck-Day. How would it go this time? Would Snape take him in the living-room again? Or would they be on the bed? Would he let Harry be on his back again, or would they take up the same position as last time? He wished Snape would finally kiss him -

Harry stopped short at that and blinked. Well. That thought was certainly new. Did he really want to...? Harry's eyes flickered to Snape's lips, finding the answer on them. Yes, he did.

"Mr Potter!" Snape's voice boomed through the classroom, making every single occupant apart from Snape himself jump. "Are you already proficient enough with the brewing techniques for this potion or is there another reason why you can't seem to concentrate on your text?"

Harry ducked his head and mumbled a _no_, praying for no further repercussions.

"In that case I strongly suggest you use the fifteen minutes that you have left to read up on what you are supposed to do. Should you let something explode I can promise you that the consequences will _not_ be pleasant."

Harry nodded quickly and buried his nose in his book, completely ignoring the looks Hermione was throwing him.

 

******

 

Snape pulled out of Harry with a squelch and buttoned up his trousers again. He cleared his throat and when Harry made no move to get up from the bed he left for the living room. Probably to go back to the desk and the book to find out how to get rid of Harry.

Harry felt weird, sated, but empty somehow. Eventually he moved further onto the bed and pulled up the blanket to cover his shivering body.

Should he give up? Was he just trying to find something that didn't exist? Viewed objectively, it looked just like Harry was searching for someone to keep him and the baby safe, to give him some sense of stability that he hadn't, so far, known in life. Maybe he didn't really love Snape. Maybe he was just telling himself things, bringing himself to believe in them, because it was so bloody convenient to love the one he was bonded to. Maybe he was just starving for attention and Snape having sex with him gave him an indication that Snape would give it to him. Or maybe it was the bond that made Harry believe that he loved Snape. And if it was ever lifted Harry would find himself very much not in love, but together with a man he didn't even like!

Harry shook his head to clear away these poisoning thoughts. Hadn't he spent nearly an hour watching Snape during Potions? His terrible fail at brewing was the proof of that. Hadn't he gone back to Snape's quarters every night so far to get to know the man, to spend as much time with him as possible?

Determination played on Harry's face before he closed his eyes and let himself be taken by sweet slumber that lasted exactly two hours before Snape threw him out.

 

*******

 

The Quidditch match had begun and Harry soared high up in the sky, trying to spot the snitch. The game today would be different from every other, he knew. Because this time he hadn't only himself to consider, but also the life growing inside him. Before Beltane he had never known the fear of falling off of his broom. Sure, falling wasn't exactly pleasant, but Harry had an immense trust in Madam Pomfrey's healing abilities. He had survived falling during the Dementor attack in third year – he had even survived Lockhart. But he doubted the embryo inside him would survive such a stunt. Should he fall he would probably lose the baby even before he had the chance to tell someone about it, to make them heal it. No, he would have to be careful.

And then there was Snape, who was sitting on the stands with all the other teachers, watching him. Would he be impressed if Harry won? Would he maybe see that there was more to Harry than an 'idiotic Gryffindor'? Snape had never before been impressed by Harry's Quidditch talents or his victories, but then again they hadn't been fucking back then. Maybe it would make a difference now. Harry circled the field slowly, scanning the surroundings, but the Snitch stayed hidden.

"Bitch," Harry mumbled, giving up every hope for a quick victory that he had entertained. They had been futile anyway.

Down below Gryffindor's chasers showed a formidable example of tactic double-oh seven (as named by Dean, who had co-developed it with Ron), but the Quaffle was snatched away during a pass. Ravenclaw raced towards Gryffindor's hoops and Harry had to force himself to look away. Ron would have everything under control.

He just needed to – Something near the Hufflepuff stands caught Harry's attention and he brought his broom into motion. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see the Ravenclaw Seeker moving as well, but Harry had the advantage on him. He was close, just had to fly a couple more feet and stretch out his hand.

And the Snitch shot upwards in a flurry, golden blur. Harry pulled on his broom, making it fly up, vertical to the ground, just narrowly escaping a collision with the stands. No good smashing his head in now.

The Ravenclaw Seeker was sharp on Harry's heels and he was coming closer. Harry heard the crowd cheer, but he couldn't make out whether they were cheering on him or celebrating a goal. Maybe he should risk a quick glance to the scoreboard.

Checking on the other seeker's position – there were still a couple of feet between them – Harry let his eyes flick towards the scoreboard. It was that moment that that nearly proved to be fatal.

The Bludger came virtually out of nowhere, raced towards Harry, aiming towards his back. It was only good instincts and hearing that distinctive rushing in the air that made Harry swing himself into a roll on the broom, nearly losing his grip.

He could hear the audience gasp collectively, but barely registered in his attempt to cling to the broom.

"Come on, come on," he urged himself and the broom, trying to get it to move. He pulled on its tip, all the while thinking that he mustn't fall, that there was more at stake than just broken bones and a couple of nights in the Hospital Wing.

And then – finally – the broom started moving and he was going into a dive. He made it roll around once again while pulling the broom upwards. The Snitch was gone.

 

******

 

"How in the names of the nine circles of hell could you do that?! You nearly killed yourself out there, Potter!" Snape shouted as soon as the door to his quarters closed behind him and Harry.

"That's Quidditch for you -"

"I know how Quidditch is, Potter! I have known it far longer than you have and I know that what you did out there was nothing but foolish recklessness! And to think that they let you and your contemporaries out into the world in a couple of weeks -" Snape continued to rant, albeit muttering to himself in a way that made it impossible for Harry to understand a word.

"Why are you so bothered about this?" Harry asked in puzzlement. It had only been a game, after all – at least to Snape, who knew, of course, nothing of the baby. And it would stay like that for a while, if things went Harry's way.

"I am not bothered," Snape snapped at him. "But have you ever thought of the consequences of you landing yourself in the hospital wing? The cravings you have now towards me," he raised his eyebrows at that, "wouldn't be fulfilled and you would be driven into madness by the desire to be with me."

"Look, I know it was close, but I was in control up there -"

"It didn't look like you were."

"You weren't there. I know perfectly well -"

"You know nothing!"

Harry shook his head and opened his mouth for another retort – he had to make Snape understand; nothing serious had happened, after all – but Snape cut him off before he was able to say anything.

"I am not discussing your foolishness any further, Potter. Go, bend over the couch and let's get on with this."

 

******

 

They fucked – Harry wished he could call it something other than that – hard and rough like always, but this time something had changed. Something was underlying all of this, made Snape's thrusts into his body feel different than before.

Harry couldn't place it or name it, but it was there, desperate and steady and present, like it would never go away. In a sense it was also comforting. He held onto that thought until it was over, then rolled onto his back after Snape had pulled out.

Snape was looking down at him, buttoning up his trousers and then his robe, while Harry's jeans were still lying in a heap on the floor. Harry swallowed, but didn't avert his eyes, as Snape reached up and straightened the collar of the shirt that he was still wearing.

"I -" Harry stopped and shook his head. He had wanted to say something profound, something that could lay Snape's worries about the game's events to rest, but he found himself unable to speak. Merlin, how dearly he wanted to tell Snape all about the baby. But he couldn't, not when the situation was like this, when he wasn't even sure how Snape would react to the news. He couldn't tell him unless he was at least somewhat sure that Snape might be happy or at least indifferent about the pregnancy.

So instead of talking Harry got up, pulled on his jeans and went over to Snape, who was still standing there, unmoving.

For a moment he considered, then he got on his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Snape's lips. He didn't look back as he hurried out of Snape's quarters.

 

******

 

When Harry woke up he felt queasy. At first he thought it might have something to do with the pregnancy, but a hasty trip to the loo proved that he didn't have to puke at all and that the weird feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the baby. Then he remembered what happened the day before.

"Oh God," Harry wheezed, "I kissed him. I _kissed_ him! He's going to kill me!" And with that he started to hit his head against the tiles right next to the sink.

"Who's going to kill you, mate?" Ron stepped out of the shower, towel slung around his hips and his hair dripping.

"Nobody," Harry mumbled quickly and lowered his head to wash his face.

"Alright. And whom did you kiss?"

"The same nobody," Harry mumbled, ignoring Ron's frown.

"You're seeing someone. And you don't want to tell me," Ron asserted. It was evident from the sound of his voice that he didn't like this a bit.

"Ron, please. It's complicated." To say the least. He had to fuck someone who didn't feel the same as he did and was pregnant by the same man without anybody knowing. On top of it he was only one week short of his N.E.W.T.s and his graduation wasn't that far off either. God, he was getting a headache. "I -"

"Don't bother, Harry," Ron snapped and stalked out of the bathroom.

Harry rested his head against the cool ties. Maybe he should have stayed in bed.

 

******

Hermione brought Harry breakfast and comforting words. From the look on her face she had already got an earful from Ron and was, since there were clearly things going on that she didn't know about yet, preparing to weedle every single detail out of Harry.

Harry accepted the toast and the blueberry muffin with a grateful smile and made room on his bed for Hermione.

"Spill," she said and poked his ribs.

"What did Ron tell you?"

"That you were being a 'secretive arse who once again refuses to tell his best friend what is going on in his life'."

"Which is true – well, apart from the secretive arse."

"Of course."

"He overheard me mumbling in the shower about kissing someone and being sure that this someone is going to kill me."

"You kissed _Snape_?" Hermione looked positively scandalised. Harry couldn't quite imagine why; she had, after all, seen what he had done during Beltane. A kiss was positively harmless, compared.

"Yes. Just after we ... I dressed and kissed him and fled."

"Oh my."

Harry buried his head under a pillow. "He's going to kill me."

"You don't know that yet -"

"Hermione."

Hermione sighed and conceded: "Okay, yes, you might be right."

"And Ron hates me."

"You know he doesn't. He's just angry because he feels like he's being excluded. And he's right, you know?"

"Yes, I do," Harry emerged from under the pillow and ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up even more. "You think it's time to tell him."

 

******

 

In the end it was remarkably simple. He took Ron, who was glaring at him non-stop, aside and went with him for a walk outside. Hermione stayed in the common room – both she and Harry had a feeling that Ron wouldn't take it well that she had known all the time while he hadn't.

The moon was shining brightly and the air was warm. Fireflies zoomed over the grounds, dancing around the two of them as they walked quiet towards the Quidditch stadium.

"So what is it? You said you wanted to tell me something," Ron started, sounding apprehensive and yet very much demanding.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and let his fingers skim over his belly for a second, searching for reassurance. "You remember three weeks ago? The Beltane celebration?"

"Yes? You got lost somewhere in the commotion and I watched the rite with Seamus and Dean."

"I didn't get lost."

"Oh?" Ron sounded affronted now. There was so much hanging in that 'Oh?' of his, as if he wanted to ask several questions at once. 'Where were you then?' 'Why weren't you with us?' 'Who were you with?' 'Why didn't you want to be with us?' 'Why haven't you told me before?'

"I was part of the rite. I was the May Queen."

Ron stopped in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at Harry. He was worse than Harry with hiding his emotions and Harry could see them all racing behind his eyes. "You -" was all Ron managed to press out.

Harry resisted the urge to yell at Ron. He expected the questions to be coming every second now, accusing him once again. He had the answers ready. Yes, it had been the role of the queen – female in its name but not necessarily in its role. Yes, he had been fucked by a bloke.

But instead Ron only asked: "Do you know who the King was?"

Harry nodded and looked at the ground. They had reached the stands by now, but he didn't feel like he could climb up there now. Hesitantly he gestured at the grass and said: "Let's sit down, okay?"

Ron frowned in suspicion, but did what Harry asked.

"It's like this. After the rite I found out that something was wrong. You remember my weird behaviour? There was a reason for it. I -" he stopped and shook his head. This was more complicated than he had thought it would be. It had been easier with Hermione, who sort of knew everything from the beginning and who managed to find out half of it herself, anyway. "You see, I was a virgin when I entered the rite. I didn't know that there might be complications because of this and no-one else had thought of it either."

"What complications, Harry?"

"I'm bonded."

"To the King?"

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

Harry turned away. "Snape."

He had expected screaming, raging. Everything, in fact, but the hand on his shoulder and Ron vowing: "I'll find a way out for you, even if I have to read every single book in the bloody library."

Harry gave him a humourless smile. "There isn't a way out. Believe me, I looked. Besides, Snape is looking, too, and he hasn't come up with anything. And he won't, because the bond is final."

"And Hermione?"

"Hasn't found anything either."

"So she knows."

"Yes." Harry raised his head and found that Ron's lips were pressed together and that he wasn't looking at him anymore. "Ron. She was with me on Beltane. Helped me prepare and all that."

"I suppose you didn't find out just today, which means she has known about the bond for quite some time now. Care to explain why you didn't tell me until now?"

"Because of what the bond makes me do." Harry ripped at the grass, tearing out one blade after another.

"Harry?"

"I get these urges. Like I need something so desperately that I can't live without getting it. I get hot and confused and get reduced to a state where I just follow my basic instincts. And the only way to keep this at bay, to control it, is to satisfy the bond. And that can only be accomplished by sleeping with Snape. Every second night."

"Bloody hell!"

Harry nodded.

"Bloody, fucking hell! So this is where you vanished to? And don't think I didn't notice."

"I thought Hermione -"

"Yeah, she kept me distracted, but I still notice when my best mate vanishes." Ron frowned again and scratched the ridge of his nose pensively. "You and 'Mione conspired against me." He didn't sound that upset. Probably because he got quite a lot out of those distractions. "But wait! You vanished far more often than only every other day."

Harry shrugged. "I was down in Snape chambers -"

"That bastard! He's making you come down there more often?! Does he want to keep you as his sex slave?!" Ron jumped to his feet, looking ready to charge at Snape, had he been around. Harry tugged on Ron's leg.

"It's not like that. I've been going down there off my own bat. I wanted to. I figured that if I have to spend my life bonded with him I might as well form a relationship with him."

Ron's eyes widened at that. "A relationship? Harry..."

"You have to understand, Ron. He's ... I ..." How could he tell Ron what this meant to him without explaining about the baby growing in him? Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He just needed to focus. "I can't keep having sex with him every second night without this meaning anything. I'm just ... I'm not made like that."

 

*******

 

When Harry came to Snape's quarters his trepidation was outweighed by his tiredness. He felt as if he had spent ten hours playing Quidditch and then gone for a run for the next four – a feeling that just shouldn't be, not even on a Monday. But there it was, weighing him down even though he hadn't done anything extraordinary.

Snape didn't look up when Harry entered and Harry sighed quietly. It would be one of those evenings, he surmised as he closed the door carefully and wandered over to the sofa.

"Where have you been?" Snape suddenly snapped at him, startling Harry so much that he leapt up from the sofa, wand in hand.

"What?" Harry squeaked, staring completely bewildered at Snape.

"I asked you where you had been. Yesterday – where were you?" Snape was glaring at him now. Why was he so angry? Had he wanted to hex Harry sooner rather than later and was made because he hadn't be able to yesterday? But no, had he wanted to do that he'd have hexed Harry the second he entered the room.

"I ... Gryffindor Tower." Harry narrowed his eyes. He was not having that tone! It was one thing to get snapped at in the class-room, but in privacy it was a completely different matter! "What's it to you?"

"I deserve to know where my bond mate is!"

"You haven't been interested before!" They were glaring at each other, gazes battling and neither of them winning. "Did something change? Did you find out that the bond isn't to be broken?" Harry pointed angrily at the closed book that was lying on Snape's desk.

Snape sneered at him. "Don't tell me you did some research for yourself, Potter. Was it the first time you saw the library from the inside?"

Harry wanted to hex him. His wand-hand twitched and begged him to utter a curse, anything to make Snape shut up.

"For your information," Snape drawled, "I found some indications that the bond indeed _can_ be broken. I just need to do a bit more research -"

Harry tuned out the rest of it. The bond could be broken? He blinked ever so slowly. Snape would break the bond. And what then? They'd go their separate ways? How could Snape end this so casually? As if the past three weeks of sex hadn't meant anything. As if Harry hadn't tried to get to know the man. They had talked, for God's sake! They had talked and shared thoughts and – Why did this hurt so much? His chest ached so terribly!

Harry turned around and fled.

 

*******

 

He had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to find some peace and quiet. A nearly impossible feat in a school like this. At least the halls down here in the dungeons where relatively quiet.

For a little while he wished Snape would come after him, but there were no hurried steps following his. Maybe he had been wishing too much for a connection between him and Snape to the point where he had started to imagine that there actually was one. Snape seemed to think a bit differently than Harry about that topic.

Harry stopped and leant against the wall, trying to breathe in and out calmly. Maybe it was for the best that the bond would be broken. He would be able to live his own life with his own rules then. And, who knew, maybe Snape would come by and visit him and the baby once in a while. But until the bond wasn't broken he would not give up.

Harry nodded at himself and looked at his watch. There were only a couple of minutes left till curfew and he still needed to go back to Snape and have sex with him. If Harry was polite the man might even agree to escort him back to the common room or at least give him a pass so Filch wouldn't get nasty. Though Filch was always nasty.

 

******

 

Shortly after that Harry entered Snape's quarters again, not bothering to knock on the door.

"Back from your hissy-fit, I see," Snape said by way of greeting. Harry leant against the closed door and watched the other man from under his fringe. If it wasn't for the slightly insecure look in Snape's eyes he would have thought the man had a heart of stone.

"Yes." Harry pushed away from the door and walked past Snape into the bedroom, brushing purposefully against him. His shirt and trousers were gone before Snape even joined him in the room. Harry laid down on his back and looked at Snape expectantly, his heart trying to beat through his chest.

"What are you doing?" Snape pressed out. Harry spread his legs. It was an invitation Snape couldn't resist. A whisper summoned the lube from its regular spot on the nightstand and well-practised fingers set to prepare Harry.

A sigh escaped Harry's lips as Snape brushed his prostate and he pushed back against those fingers, wanting and needing more. His hand found Snape's arm and he pulled him towards himself.

"Now," Harry whispered and spread his thighs wider. Snape's trousers fell and for the first time Harry got to really see him, erect, thick and long. Snape pushed in, hard and quick, and Harry's head snapped back with a gasp.

He heard himself groan and whimper. He wanted more, he wanted -

His hand found Snape's neck and he pulled him down until their lips met. It was not the time for finesse. Harry pressed his mouth against Snape's until the lips softened and opened. Their tongues met, teeth clicked and they moved – moved – moved.

A gasp made them part and come back together again, eyes closed, clinging to each other.

 

*******

 

They didn't talk about the bond anymore, but their thoughts were visibly burdened with it. Harry only saw Snape in class and on every second day, no matter how much time he spent in Snape's quarters. He didn't know where the man went and he didn't ask.

Snape's quiet rooms were perfect for revision and Harry made use of that, trying out spells, even taking one of the Potions books off the shelves and looking up this potion or that, thankful that Snape was obviously someone who enjoyed writing into his books.

Exam week came all too soon. It was all a blur; written exams, practicals. Charms flew by. Transfiguration was nothing more but a hazy memory and then, on a wonderful warm, summer Sunday afternoon it was over.

Harry was tired, longing for nothing more than lazying about in the sun for the rest of the day or going for a swim to drive away this weird void he felt now. It was somehow unsettling, this knowledge that the exams were over. It felt as if he had forgotten something important, but couldn't remember what. And this feeling was now mixing with relief.

 

******

 

Harry was walking out of the castle, wearing his swimming shorts with the fancy red and orange Hawaiian print already, when Snape stepped out of a shadow and took him by the arm.

"We need to go and talk with the Headmaster," he said darkly and proceeded to drag Harry, who was waving to his concerned-looking friends, off.

"You could have asked, you know," Harry said as he fell into step with Snape. The other man didn't respond and Harry frowned at him. Snape looked tired, he noticed. Worn. Maybe –

But before Harry could finish that train of thoughts they had reached the Headmaster's office and Snape was pacing around. Harry sat down, accepting some of the ice-cold lemonade that Dumbledore offered them, and waited for Snape to begin.

"It won't work." The words hung over their heads heavy as rain clouds. Harry had always loved rain, especially in summer. "I cannot break the bond."

Dumbledore leant back in his seat with a heavy sigh. "That was to be expected, my boy." His eyes fell on Harry, noticing that he didn't look as if he was despairing. He raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't expect anything different either," Harry said quietly. He couldn't quite keep the relief out of his voice.

Snape whirled around, wildly looking back and forth between Dumbledore and Harry. "How can you be so calm? How can you ... how can you just accept this?"

Harry shook his head and gave Snape a small smile. He stood up and approached Snape like one would approach a shy doe. "It is okay. I -" He squeezed Snape's arm gently, feeling the heavy fabric of the robes Snape wore even in summer. "We'll make it work."

 

*******

 

The dungeons were cool and quiet as a stark contrast to the tower these days. Neither Harry nor Snape spoke and the only sound filling the room with the empty fireplace was the whiskey that poured into glass.

"Here," Snape said and held out a glass, but Harry shook his head. Snape shrugged and tossed the whiskey back, then grabbed the second glass. "Are you sure?"

"Can't," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. Goosebumps raised on his naked calves. The second glass of whiskey vanished into Snape's mouth.

"Why?"

"Because..." Harry inhaled sharply and felt his hands move, as if led by an invisible force, to his stomach. Snape's gaze dropped. At first he didn't react, leaving Harry to think that the gesture had been futile. Then he drew in a sharp breath in comprehension.

"I thought ... You didn't say anything." It almost sounded like an accusation, but in the language of Snape there were many subtle dialects. Harry knew at least this one.

"Is this a problem?" he whispered. Snape's face was covered by a curtain of his hair. "Is this a problem ... Severus?" Tentatively he took a couple of steps towards _Severus_, then closed the distance between the two of them. Snape's skin was warm and his face no longer a mask as they moved together. A kiss, pure and simple.

"We'll make it work." Severus said.


End file.
